


Cassette Cake

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [11]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Fat Robots, Fluff, Gen, I'm Going to Hell, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, Weight Gain, feline behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: "That cake was supposed to be for the anniversary party." The tape deck explained ruefully. "It's been two years today since the end of the war, Jaw. It's as good a reason as any to celebrate."---In which Blaster is exasperated and Steeljaw is a cat.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fields_of_Heather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fields_of_Heather/gifts).



> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving unhealthy eating, weight gain and implied belly stuffing.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

A purr of contentment rumbled from Steeljaw's vocalizer. The cassette was sprawled lazily across the sofa, basking in the light of a warm sunbeam, with his tanks stuffed full of delicious sugary fuel. There was truly no better way to spend one's function.

Ever since the war had ended in an Autobot victory, Steeljaw had been granted the freedom to live howsoever he chose. He had chosen to be comfortably plush, lazily content, and completely domestic. Or, in Blaster's words, to be "a fat, happy housecat." 

Steeljaw's tail twitched with irritation at the thought of his tape deck. Blaster claimed to support the life choices of his cassettes, claimed that he was perfectly happy to go along with any decisions that they made. 

Steeljaw doubted it. If Blaster truly had no qualms about the feline's steadily increasing mass, then why would the tape deck have gone to such lengths to hide fuel from him?

As if anything so delicious could ever be successfully hidden from his superior senses. He had spent millennia successfully tracking Ravage, the most elusive of all Decepticon spies. Tracking down fuel that had been hastily concealed in a disused cupboard was sparkling's play by comparison. 

The cake had been truly delicious. It had been comprised of alternating layers of moist, rich chocolate sponge, sweet vanilla cream, and tart diced cherries. The multi-layered confection had also been iced with a layer of solid chocolate, and practically smothered with toppings of candied cherries, whipped cream, and chocolate shavings. 

Steeljaw was sure that there was a name for it. In the grand scheme of things, however, names didn't matter. Flavours did. The cassette ran his glossa over his lipplates, savouring the lingering traces of chocolate. His purring increased in volume. Ever since the war had ended, his function had been pure bliss.

The opening chime of the habsuite door altered Steeljaw to the fact that his tape deck had finally returned from his day trip into downtown Iacon. Well, the chime wasn't technically his first clue - his first clue was the pounding beat of the energetic hip-hop music echoing from Blaster's speakers. 

The tape deck played music from well before dawn until well past dusk each and every orn, no matter where he was. Somehow, he still managed to be surprised each and every time that he received a noise complaint. Steeljaw couldn't help but smirk at the thought, wondering exactly how many complaints Blaster had received this afternoon. Likely it had been fewer than nine, but more than three.

The music traveled along the hallway and into the kitchen, then cut off abruptly to the sound of a slamming cupboard door - a cupboard door which a certain cassette had deliberately left open. Irate footsteps traveled back down the hallway, heading briskly towards the lounge and towards Steeljaw. 

"Slag it all, Jaw. What am I going to do with you?" Blaster's tone was exasperated, but there was a distinct undercurrent of amusement. His expression settled into a wry smile as he eyed the lazy, overfed feline cassette lounging on their tattered orange sofa.

The lazy, overfed, incredibly chubby feline cassette. Pit, how much had Steeljaw been eating recently? If Blaster remembered correctly, the cassette had been less than half this size only a few decaorns ago.

The feline lay on his side, his heavily padded chassis currently distended into a stuffed, spherical orb, the tanks within packed full of misappropriated cake. Each twitch of the cassette's tail sent ripples through the plating of his thick haunches, and his padded flank rose and fell with each deep ventilation. 

The cassette had become massively fat, his frame now the very image of blissful, slothful gluttony.

Steeljaw gazed up at his tape deck with bored, half-shuttered optics. Sometimes, the mech asked the most unintelligent questions. 

"What are you going to do with me?" The cassette scoffed, unimpressed and incredulous in a decidedly aloof way that only a feline could truly manage. "You're going to keep on pampering me. And you're never going to hide fuel from me again." 

"Hide?" Blaster seemed confused. "You mean I didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Steeljaw cocked his helm curiously, but remained wary of such an obvious delay tactic.

"That cake was supposed to be for the anniversary party." The tape deck explained ruefully. "It's been two years today since the end of the war, Jaw. It's as good a reason as any to celebrate." 

The cassette had no objections. He did, however, object to Blaster's next words. "That cake was for the five of us to share."

Steeljaw didn't share, especially not with his siblings - call it feline nature. He and Blaster had spent countless millennia together, as companions and partners, both on and off of the battlefield. How was it that his tape deck still didn't understand?

The cassette asked as much, prompting Blaster to give an abrupt, surprised chuckle. "Wishful thinking. I guess a turbotiger really can’t change its stripes." 

Steeljaw rolled his optics at the blatant corruption of yet another human idiom. During his time on Earth, the tape deck had developed an irrational fondness for obnoxiously loud hip-hop music and thoroughly pointless pseudo-philosophical sayings.

"Just buy another one," the cassette replied flippantly, feigning a yawn. "Or don't. I don't particularly care." 

It was Blaster's turn to roll his optics. Steeljaw had a remarkably disinterested attitude towards anything that wasn't directly related to fuel, recharge, or belly rubs. "Just for that, I'm not going to buy another one. I'm going to let you explain to Ramhorn why there's no cake at our anniversary party."

Steeljaw hissed with disapproval, a shudder running down his spinal struts. Getting the slag beaten out of him by his foul-tempered sibling was decidedly at odds with his relaxed peacetime philosophy. 

The cassette rose heavily to his paws and leapt from the sofa. The graceful movement was somewhat destabilized by the weight of his stuffed chassis, but Steeljaw kept his helm high, pretending as though he hadn't stumbled at all. 

"I'm sure that Soundwave could use another cassette." The feline snapped, playing on the one subject that invariably provoked a reaction from his tape deck. There was nomech that Blaster loathed more than Soundwave.

"I'm not falling for that this time." Blaster retorted acridly. Steeljaw was overly fond of that particular threat, and the mech knew that it no longer held any real meaning.

"Falling for what? I was given an offer. I'm going to accept it." The cassette's tone was smug as he pushed past his tape deck, headed for the door. His broad aft jiggled with each swaying step, and his swollen chassis bounced along with it, drawing even more attention to his ample size.

"Aw, come on!" Blaster exclaimed. He was nearly 97.23% certain that his cassette was playing him for a fool, but even an uncertainty of 2.77% wasn't a risk that he was willing to take. "Fine! I'll buy another cake. You don't have to explain anything to Ramhorn."

"Two cakes. I refuse to share." Steeljaw huffed. His tone was thoroughly affronted, but there was a sly smile on his muzzle.

Blaster threw up his servos in mock defeat. "If you say so," he chuckled, his good humour rapidly returning as an amusing thought entered his processor. "But you have to finish the entire thing." 

"Deal," the feline smirked triumphantly. 

Life was good. He had a warm, comfortable berth, ample time to recharge, and access to more fuel than he could ever hope to consume. He had his gullible tape deck wrapped firmly around his paw. Life was very good indeed.

What Steeljaw didn't yet know was that Blaster had every intention of buying him the biggest frelling cake in the store. After all, what better way was there to discipline a greedy, chubby cassette than with excessive amounts of fuel? 

What Blaster didn't yet know was that Steeljaw would thoroughly enjoy every klik of this new punishment. After all, to a greedy, chubby cassette, there was no such thing as too much fuel.

There was a human saying which accurately described their unique situation. It was one which Blaster was loathe to use, but it was perhaps the most accurate of them all. 

"Robohounds have masters. Photovoltaicats have staff."

**Author's Note:**

> For Fields_of_Heather. Thank you for your patience - I hope that this fic was to your liking!
> 
> Did I miss any cat stereotypes? I don't think I did. IRL, I'm an advocate of pet health, but in fanfic there's nothing cuter than a chubby kitten.
> 
> Requests remain closed at this time. All current requests will be completed shortly - I'm working on writing squishy goodness of the Constructicons, Wheeljack, Ratchet/Megatron, and First Aid.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
